


Man of Vengeance Holds His Master's Hand and Dies: More at 11

by VenomousQueen



Series: Loved by Vengeance [2]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: F/M, a sappy self-indulgent self-insert fic, edmond cant hold his masters hand without dying, edmond? out of character? more likely than u think, i really love edmond ok theres not enough stuff out there fanfic wise of him, robin fea is my self-insert!!! lets make self-inserts not a bad thing 2k19, watch out this is mushy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 18:43:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18057950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomousQueen/pseuds/VenomousQueen
Summary: Fem!Master OC/Self-Insert and Edmond Dantes hold hands and its really cute!!!!!!!!!!! salieri is also kinda like a friend to edmond too! PS id like to thank my friend B for giving me the title.





	Man of Vengeance Holds His Master's Hand and Dies: More at 11

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo!! im glad u stumbled upon my tiny fic! my friends keep telling me not to be afraid to publish my work online so im trying to conquer my fears and post! im a veteran fic writer but i always get so nervous to publish self-insert stuff bc of the bad rep it used to get back in the day... im hoping now that things will be different! i hope you all like it as much as i loved writing it!! enjoy (if u wish to read it lol)!!

He was nothing more than a shell of a former human. No soul or heart resided in his monstrous cage of a vessel seething with vengeance. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to feel this; yet, the cigarette he lit pried at his heart. She wouldn’t approve of this, but why did that matter all of a sudden? The lady was home now.

Resting.

Safe.

Protected from his poisonous rage.

The rustling blossoms of spring sprinkled their petals across the wind like feathers as the Count of Monte Cristo stood in contemplation on his patio. The rosy hue of the sakura trees reflected Robin Fea’s contagious kindness. He could have sworn he heard her grin amongst the breeze. She was as ethereal as the angels. She didn’t deserve the torment of loving him. 

Love? What a foreign concept to someone so engulfed in their vengeance. 

Their despair. 

Their agony.

Fourteen years in Chateau D’lf did not teach him how to love. Why was this feeling forcefully prying through his chest? He never felt pain, but somehow, he felt this. And it hurt. The monster bowed his head and flicked ashes into the air. The pollution from his smoke, the toxicity of his inferno of vengeance… it was all too alike.  
What could he do to make this pain go away? Why did God have to subject him to more despair? The Count did not want to hurt her, but she persisted. She kept persevering, she kept winning. She got her prize, and her prize cost his heart. Why? Was D’lf not enough? Was there more that Edmond Dantès had to atone for? The atmosphere surrounding him grew thick with vengeance, enough to where the sakura trees shone like stars amidst his manifested pain. Nothing around him felt like it existed; not his house, not Antonio Salieri, not even Robin…

Robin. The one thing that melted away his sorrows. Even now, her name had so much power that it was as if an angel had wiped his slate clean. He didn’t like feeling like this, he didn’t want anyone in this world or the next to have such dominance over him, and he could damn well do something about it, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He could never hurt Robin, even in the worst of his rages. She was a saint, she was as much of a princess as Haydee, but at the same time, she was just a girl. A university student among the millions who have their own ambitions. What was it about her that twisted his innards into knots?

She was as gentle as a mother, although he knew that she never wished to have physical children of her own. Her bloodline may not continue, but her spiritual children will go on to reach the heavens, and that, he was convinced of. There was never a person she wouldn’t smile to, nor a joke that didn’t make her laugh. She made everyone feel like they served a magnificent purpose in this world of trials and tribulations, and the Count never understood how someone could have been graced with such an ability. Her life wasn’t always sunshines and rainbows; it had been as dark as D’lf for longer than the Count would have wanted, but those years in the darkness enabled her to gain wisdom beyond any human he had ever met. Her empathy, her sympathy, it was all genuine. Her glimmering eyes held so much hope… so much hope for a world that hurt her terribly. She forgave too easily, but the Count couldn’t stop her.

One time, she dropped everything she had and rushed to the aid of a beggar child who had been shoved to the gravel. The Count could only stare as she held the boy’s hand in hers and tended to his wounds with the gentleness and love of a heavenly maiden. He knew how terribly afraid she was of germs and ailments, but those fears didn’t seem to exist at that moment. Not even the fear of people staring at her could stop her. She helped the child stand on his feet and gave a warm smile that was worth more than anything money could buy. The child could not see it as much as the Avenger did, but gave thanks and went on his way.

To hold her hand just once… to know what it felt like to be loved. To experience the sublimity of what having oneself in Robin’s embrace would be like was all too naive. He did not deserve to have her love, nor was he capable of ever reciprocating it. It was a never ending nightmare, and was the one thing he did not believe he could ever wait or hope for. Deep in his spirit origin was a yearning desire to kiss her, if just once, but his vengeance was strong enough to mask its power over his conscience. 

The cigarette had gone with the wind by now, and all that was left were the ebony gloves that hid his hands. Hands he dared not to show… they would poison anyone at a single brush of skin. They were the hosts to his power; channeled even in his veins. The skin probably wouldn’t be recognizable anymore. No sane human being would want to hold them affectionately, but as he said that, guilt tore at his throat. Robin may have been an exception, but he would never subject her to such pain.  
How bad had it gotten, he wondered? After everything that had happened—D’lf, those manic episodes, the times he had fought with Robin as his master—were his hands even human? The only way to find out was to slide the gloves off, and despite their light fabric, it felt like peeling off a layer of skin. 

The breeze hitting the back of his hand was brisk, but not as frigid as his core. His veins were stained black as his vengeance flowed through them, and the scars from his imprisonment were apparent. The scar tissue paralleled his albino-like skin, and the lack of body fat around his phalanges made them appear withered and aged beyond their years. His nails were a sickly yellow, perhaps from malnutrition, and as the glove was removed from his right hand, a ball of black flame ignited in his palm. No… the thought of ever having Robin hold his hands should not have entered his thoughts so haphazardly. This didn’t feel right, this wasn’t right, but he wanted, just once, to show Robin how much she meant to him, even if that meant sending him into a pit of despair for poisoning his queen.

The back porch door slowly slid open to reveal a concerned Salieri. 

“Er… Count? What in the world are you trying to do?”

Count let out a sigh and quickly covered his hand with his glove. Turning around to face the concerned musician, he only stared, before Salieri voiced his concern.

“You’ve been out here for fifteen minutes, and I can tell you’ve been thinking about something. Do not even think about hurting yourself again, or I promise I will take drastic measures to ensure your safety.”

The Count of Monte Cristo shoved past his roommate as he walked back inside and aimed for the staircase. It was time for another hour-long session of mourning and contemplation. Salieri watched him closely as he heaved his body to his bedroom.

“If this is about Miss Fea, just do it already. The longer you let it harbor within you, the sooner your mind will shatter. Do not do that to yourself again.”

Salieri warned. The Count scowled and murmured something under his breath before secluding himself from the light of day. Shut-out curtains were a blessing, but the more pressing matters involved what the fellow Avenger had said to him. Not that it resonated much with him, but the fact that, just by seeing him, the older man knew that the younger one’s mind was lingering around Robin. Was it that obvious? The Count was infamous for his stoic expressions and not-so-stoic ones at the same time, but what could a man like Antonio Salieri see in him? Did they know each other too well? This may be dangerous.

In his Spirit Origin, he agreed with his roommate. He wanted to see Robin’s face again. 

Hear her voice. 

Bask in the light of her smile. 

Every part of him held him back. She was probably busy or off helping the poor as she typically did with her best friend, Bryn. The last thing she wanted was to come face-to-face with vengeance itself. His cell phone lay vacant on the table side… he could reach Robin in an instant, but refrained himself from doing so. He didn’t do well with conversation anyway.

The darkness enveloped him like a familiar comfort, but the familiarity came with the price of trauma. He had practically put himself back in D’lf; imprisoning himself in his own home. Was that all he knew? Imprisonment? His hands trembled in his anger as he hurled a beam of poisonous rage at the bare wall in front of him. It dissipated into nothingness before it could break anything; his rage in physical form was stronger the closer it was to his corrupt mentality. As it was shot out away from him, it poofed out of existence like vapor. Damn him! Damn it all! 

“Dantès, that’s enough. I’m not going to sit around and watch you destroy yourself over a woman. For a Count, you’re such a child.”

Salieri had knocked on the door and disrupted the Count’s sulking session; earning a gasp from the latter. It’s not that the fellow Avenger wasn’t allowed in the Count’s room, it was more of a preservation tactic to prevent anyone from coming face-to-face with despair and hallucinatory beasts. He didn’t know if it would effect Salieri as it did any normal person, but he did not want to find out. The younger Avenger shivered at the thought of the clearly older spirit origin calling up Miss Robin Fea, but at the same time, although he was scrambling for words, nothing but laughter came out.

“Hahahahahahaha! Don’t pity me! Only a fool would do such a thing as pity a man of vengeance like myself! Someone of your age should at least know that much.”

The Count cackled, and Salieri narrowed his gaze.

“Are you telling me I’m old? I can tell you, even in my thirties, I never insulted my elders like that.”

He didn’t expect much from the Count, but a huff sufficed. Salieri turned to walk back down the stairs and dial Robin’s number whether his roommate knew it or not. As he talked over the phone, the Count’s boisterous laughter reverberated throughout the house like a devilish curse. Thankfully, the girl accepted the Avenger’s apologies and agreed to meet the Count at the park. This was going to be eventful.

“Get ready, Dantès. I’m taking you to the park.”

Salieri wasn’t the Count’s legal guardian, but he took over the role for himself once he moved in. Edmond Dantès needed adult supervision, and there was no way the Count would let anyone baby him. Salieri didn’t “baby” him, but did just enough to keep the Count in check. He was a grown man, after all; perfectly sane or not, he didn’t need a helicopter parent. 

The Count lain in his bed; his eyes glued to the ceiling. His room was like an empty abyss, and there was nothing to focus his gaze on… the emptiness was enough. Preparing to head out wasn’t the tricky part; it was getting the Count to actually confront Robin that Salieri worried himself over. He knew how desperately Edmond tried to keep Robin at a safe distance from himself, but the Count couldn’t keep doing that, not with how much it had been plaguing him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin stood in the center of the park as her hair and cardigan swished in the breeze. Her glasses were barely sliding off her nose, and her pastel rainbow cardigan stuck out in the surrounding sakura-littered scenery. She had on a pair of black leggings, leather boots with bows on the sides, and a pink shirt that had a strawberry printed on the front. Her lilac ita bag hung by a thread on her shoulder as she fiddled with her cell phone charms in one hand and sipped at her pink strawberry beverage in the other. As soon as Robin spotted the two Avengers, the Count immediately latched to her smile.

“Hi, you guys!”

She waved as she gave a grin. Salieri beckoned the Count forward after telling him to meet him at a nearby restaurant after the rendezvous and left the love birds amongst the trees. Edmond’s height made Robin seem tiny, but she never seemed to mind; he knew she had a younger brother who was even taller than he. 

“It’s nice to see you, Edmond. I hope you’ve been doing well!”

The charm in her voice rang like the bells of heaven, as if God Himself were descending upon her. The Count never broke a smile, and instead, remained at Robin’s side defensively.

“However you define “well”, that is.”

He huffed. Robin, as Salieri did, took that as an acceptable answer and moved on. Standing in the middle of a park would have gotten a bit awkward, she mentioned, and she began walking onward, to which the Count followed without consent. Among the pink buds of spring, he could still catch the aroma of her vanilla-cocoa-esque perfume. That was a familiar comfort he tolerated. The key chains on her bag jingled like Santa Alter’s sleigh behind her, which the wind couldn’t seem to silence. The Count wasn’t bothered by it. There were worse things in the world than a noisy bundle of key chains.

“I love spring… the cherry blossoms are so beautiful! Maybe it’s just because I like the color pink so much, but…,”

She sighed dreamily,

“It just fits my aesthetic. And my drink, too! The coconut milk and strawberries gives it a pink color. Would you like to try a sip? It’s not coffee, but…”

Robin had a tendency to trail off. The Count eyed the iced drink for a moment before politely refusing the offer. It definitely wasn’t coffee, but it was Robin’s favorite drink, and that was enough. As they traversed deeper into the park and the sun began to set behind them, couples of all different kinds walked by them with their fingers entwined. Through her tinted lenses, the master would watch as the duos went along hand-in-hand. With a quick glance at her servant, she noticed that, as per usual, his hands were hidden beneath his cloak. Welp. That soiled that idea.

The Count couldn’t help but bite his cheek. He picked up on Robin’s glance and hated himself for it. All of these love birds were trailing under the trees, and he and his master were the only ones not publicly displaying affection. It wasn’t like he could or anything; the desire could never manifest itself in the blackness of his heart. His eyes remained stuck to her as she mindlessly sipped at her empty Barstucks cup. He was paying no heed to his surroundings and almost tripped over someone’s dog before being reeled back into reality by his master’s heart-melting giggle.

“Watch where you’re going, silly! Is your dog alright, ma’am?”

Robin teased before quickly reverting to hospitable mode. The woman in question nodded and thanked her before continuing on her way. As she threw her empty up into the nearby recycle bin, the Avenger kept his gaze averted from her captivating hazel eyes, but it was impossible not to dodge her curiosity.

“Is there something wrong?”

It wasn’t like she knew the reason behind him not making eye contact with her. There was more to it than just not wanting to feel the overwhelming desire to hold her close. Wait, what? Edmond tried to hide his face without his body shifting into another plane of existence, and Robin’s gentle grin to prod his anxieties further didn’t help.

“What!? What’s making you so flustered?”

The Count still didn’t answer, and his disappearing lower half wasn’t making things better. His eyes darted side-to-side until a hand rested itself on his shoulder. His body was slowly returning; fluttering shadows created his physique that had vanished. Upon realizing the hand belonged to none other than his master, he swatted her hand away and turned his back to her. Robin muffled a whimper and frowned.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t like that… but you were vanishing again. And I don’t want you to disappear.”

For a reason the Count did not know, her simple words dragged his heart out of his rib cage. He turned his head slightly to glare at her fragile form and gave her a sullen frown. Behind his eyes, unbeknown to her, lay sorrow.

“Robin… you are my accomplice, and I will stay with you even if that means going to the fiercest depths of hell. I am never going to disappear, whether you like it or not.”

His words were colder than he had intended, but, typical of Robin, she seemed relieved by his awkward presentation of reassurance. The Count turned around to face her again, but instead of feeling her resonating gentleness, he only felt a sharp pain in his chest. He could not explain the way he ached, or why he did, and it didn’t cease until his master stepped closer and held one of his hands in hers. Her tiny, feeble hands cupped around one of his own, and it was as if the world grew fifty degrees hotter. 

“Edmond…”

She sighed; her voice hanging in the air like petals descending gracefully from their flowers. The vengeance couldn’t hurt her like this, not while he still had his gloves on. Even if his whole plan for the evening was to have skin-to-skin contact, he was overwhelmed by her gesture. Noticing this, she gave a gentle smile and closed her hands around his. The breeze brushed through Robin’s curly brunette hair as her servant was practically stuck in the moment. He opened his mouth to warn her, or perhaps just say something, but nothing could come out no matter how hard he tried. 

“I’m so glad to know that you have no intentions of leaving… it was one of my fears that you would leave us as soon as you could, but… you’re here! And I couldn’t be more thankful. I guess what I mean to say is… thank you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I…”

She was still trying to formulate her thoughts into words as tears swelled in her eyes. With his available hand, albeit gloved, he brought out his thumb and softly wiped her cheeks, which glowed an endearing shade of pink at his touch. It was hard not to mask the butterflies tickling his insides, but for some reason, it felt as if some outside force were controlling him. Taking his tear-stained left hand, he gently pried open her cupped fingers to grip his right glove. The tricky part was to channel his vengeance to another part of his body because, without consciously thinking about it, his power rested comfortably in his palms. Robin’s shaky breaths dimmed to silence as she watched the Avenger slide his glove off and stuff it into his pocket; her hands now acting as a makeshift cushion for his palm to rest. Both of them were now blushing messes— Robin in bewilderment that Edmond had just done that, and Edmond for finding the courage he didn’t know he had.

“Your hands are as soft as I had imagined them, Robin.”

The Count commented as he bit onto his other glove and yanked it off before stuffing it in the same pocket as the other. Robin was aghast; her jaw agape as she watched him take off his remaining cover. Clearing her throat, she traced circles around the back of his hand with her thumbs and lost herself in fascination. The raised scar tissue, his somehow smooth yet still paper-like skin… she could study this all day until she began noting her discoveries out loud.

“Your hands don’t hurt? They look oddly pale, like no blood has been running to them. And I… didn’t know you had scars on your hands… are they from Chateau D’lf? No, never mind, that’s so insensitive of me; forget I asked, um… ah!!”

She gasped, as the Count brought his other hand over to lift her right wrist up and bestow a kiss upon her hand. Upon bringing her hand so close to himself, he could perfectly smell her lotion appropriately scented like cherry blossoms. How… cute. That word branded itself onto his soul as the one thing Robin was: cute. As he brought her hand back down to her height, he had completely forgotten to channel his power away from his hands. Vengeance was licking at her fingers, and despite the pain it must have caused her, she still managed to smile. 

The Count tried to channel his energy once again, only to have his master call him out on it.

“Don’t, Count. It’s okay, I promise.”

Her reassurance shouldn’t have meant anything to him, but for some reason, not believing her felt like a sin on its own. As the poisonous flames traveled back down to their nest, his veins trailed along his skin like black ink on paper. Robin’s eyes sparkled as she was captivated by the sight, and blinked several times as she remembered that they were stranded in the middle of a walking path; the sun peeking behind the trees as if watching their displays of affection intently. The master brought one hand away, but entwined her fingers with his and proceeded to walk onward.

The Avenger could not describe the overbearing warmth in his chest. It was as if he were blessed by God. Hmm… was this what God was trying to do? Show him love? Through Robin? Was it just a matter of accepting the fact that… no. He would never accept the feeling of something so futile as love. Love did nothing to help in the end, and if anyone knew that, it was Edmond Dantès.

As they proceeded onward, the two, hand-in-hand, ended up on a hill looming over the city. The girl audibly gasped at the ethereal scenery and rushed to the edge; leaving the Count to catch up on his own. Strangely, his vengeance had latched onto his master like ivy, and didn’t want to be separated so quickly. This was trouble on his part… was there something he wasn’t admitting to himself? Deep in his spirit origin was something he couldn’t ignore, and the pestering thought made him want to never see the light of day ever again.

“Oh my gosh, it’s so pretty! All the lights and the kiosks set up outside with lanterns and…!”

She took in a sharp inhale as she exclaimed how beautiful it was down there. Seeing her so excited forced a chuckle out of him. She was a child in mind, an angel at heart, and a wise goddess in spirit. He was captivated by her, if just for a moment, and before he could do anything to stop it, a vine of vengeance stemmed from his heart and turned her towards him before disappearing. 

“Yes? What is it, Count?”

She asked innocently. If there was one person he didn’t mind calling him “Edmond”, it was Robin. She was more than just his master; she was his savior. Out from the depths, he could always remember her outstretched hand pulling him into her spiritual embrace. She was well aware that he had abandoned that name along with the past, but her constant slip-ups, although annoying at first, became habit. No one called anyone “Count” anymore, and he respected that. He was content to see his master honor his wishes and call him “Count”, but on rare occasions, the name “Edmond Dantès” would suffice. 

With one hand, he took off his hat to reveal his disheveled silver hair, which only got a confused expression from his master. Why was he taking his hat off? Politely bowing down, he brought himself closer to Robin’s face before covering the right side of their faces with his hat and meeting her lips. Her gentle gasp was silenced by his gesture, and for a moment, she didn’t reciprocate, until her soul returned to her body and she kissed back. Was this heaven? Yeah, she would have called this a glimpse into heaven. And for the first time in his life, the Count didn’t feel fueled by rage. Who could be angry around someone like Robin Fea? 

As he pulled away, he couldn’t help the blush blooming on his cheeks. Robin, on the other hand, was as red as a tomato. Was this her first kiss, perchance? She looked down at her fingers that were barely touching her cheeks, then back up at her servant who was adjusting his hat as his lip quivered. Robin would have grinned at his adorable expression, and she did grin, but for a different reason.

“I had red lip gloss on, you know! Now you have it on, too!”

She beamed. Her servant didn’t seem to ecstatic, and finally succumbed to a different plane of existence as his body vanished into the shadows. Robin was left behind as a grinning mess before catching her breath and walking back to her shared house with Bryn; her hands cupping her rosy cheeks as she danced whimsically along the pathway home.

**Author's Note:**

> if u guys havent noticed, it says this is part of a series! i actually have a couple chapters to a story abt these two under the title "Fate: Loved by Vengeance"! its the first thing on my page, so it isnt hard to find <3 thank u sm for reading this and possibly even LbV!! have a nice day/evening!!


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